


An Intelligent Woman

by 912luvjaxlean



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Did I say I do?, Established Relationship, F/M, sulky Jack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-15 01:33:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13020465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/912luvjaxlean/pseuds/912luvjaxlean
Summary: Jack has to deliver a special report to his boss, a typosaurus attacks, Phryne saves the day.





	An Intelligent Woman

**Author's Note:**

  * For [propangel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/propangel/gifts).



The boudoir was hers and he loved being there with her. The drawing room was theirs and a place to spend time together. But, the new Wardlow office was his.

It was a masculine room with wood paneling, a comfortable divan for him to stretch out on, bookcases on the walls, and an oak partners desk. Phryne had created the room especially for him, after they returned to Melbourne.

Jack sat at the desk early one morning. He wore blue silk pajamas and a threadbare flannel robe. Phryne entered the room. She was elegantly attired in a black robe with a red dragon embroidered on the back. “There you are,” she said.

“Did I wake you when I came downstairs?” Jack asked.

“No, my feet got cold.”

“How did you manage before I shared your bed?” He smiled with the question, knowing she would say something about her ‘old friends’.

Instead she said, “Woolen socks.”

“You never did?”

“I wasn’t as wild as you imagined me to be. All finished with the annual audit report that the Commissioner requested?”

“I am. Just going over it one last time,” said Jack.

“In lieu of that promotion?”

“Early days, Miss Fisher. You are aware our arrangement would have to change?”

“Early days, Inspector,” said Phryne as took her seat across from him. “Now tell me, does that new furrow in your brow have anything to do with that report?”

“Good God. I can’t believe this,” said Jack. “I spelled the word audit with the ‘u’ before the ‘a’.”  

“Just fix it.”

“You don’t understand,” moaned Jack. “I misspelled it throughout the entire report.” He held up a thick stack of papers.

“Let me see. Surely it’s not on every page?”

“It is,” said Jack burying his head in his hands.

“Well, you’ll just have to re-type it. When is it due?”

“This morning at eight.”

“There’s time. It’s only a little after five. What are you doing?” Phryne asked as Jack rhythmically banged his forehead on the desk.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” he said in time to the rhythm.

“Stop that immediately. You’ll mar the finish.”

“You care more about this desk than my career,” he said as he rubbed his forehead.

 “I do not, dear Jack. Though, the desk was a real find and perfect for your office.”

“My head hurts,” said Jack stating the obvious as she came to his side. She lightly kissed his brow.

“Better?”

“No.”

“Come over here. Lie down and rest, while I think of something.” Jack stood up, went over to the divan and stretched out. Phryne pulled an Abottsford afghan over his leanly muscled body. He proceeded to cover his head with it. “That upset, are you?”

“I ‘ry get ‘motion.”

“I really can’t hear you with that blanket over your mouth,” Phryne said as she pulled it down.

“I’m trying to get a promotion.”

 “Of course you are.” She reached down and fondled his hair. “Look at your hair it’s all ahoo and standing straight up. Anything else upstanding currently?”

“At a time like this?” Jack said and pulled the cover back over his face.

“It never hurts to ask. Now let me see.” Phryne sat down on Jack’s side of the desk and considered the problem.

Number one: This seemingly reserved, impassive man was really an expressive, overly emotional creature. As was his hair.

Number two: He would be bypassed for promotion, if he was living with her.

Number three: He was not an accurate typist.

Number four: He might suffocate under that blanket.

“I can’t breathe,” said Jack tearing the cover off his face. “Here take my pulse, it might be the heart attack.

“It’s nothing of the sort,” said practical Phryne. “Calm down.”

“Why are you on my side of the desk?”

“Someone has to act like an adult.  Don’t sulk, Jack.”

“I wasn’t sulking,” Jack said as he pushed his lower lip out and clutched a red throw pillow.

“Do you want my solution? Or should I leave you and your huggy pillow alone?”

“I wasn’t hugging it. I was just ascertaining if it needs more stuffing."

“So you don’t really need my help?” said Phryne with a stubborn tilt to her chin.

“Do you want me to beg?" Jack asked as Phryne remained royally silent. "Please?”

“Very well,” said Phryne as she rose and went to the divan. She sat and wiggled her bottom into his side, forcing Jack to make room for her. “Dot will start re-typing the report while you get some sleep.”

“But…”

She shooshed him with a finger against his lips. “Mr. Butler can deliver the carbon copy of the current report to the Commissioner’s office. Chances are he won’t look at it. Obviously, your boss just wants to see if you can deliver it on time. If he does look at it, he won’t want to read the carbon. If he calls, which he won’t, Hugh can say you’re out of the office, which you will be. You and your pillow will be snuggled up beside me in my bed. And, societal norms demand that we marry. Now, you may speak.” She said as she removed her finger.

“Uh, I…”

“I thought you’d never ask. How does next month sound? I need a new wadrobe. Aunt P will hold the reception at her home. Should we go to the shore? Or, the mountains? Or both? I think a new navy suit for you. What about the ring? An emerald to match my eyes? We'll remodel the boudoir, of course. I’ll want Dot to stand up with me. Hugh for you, naturally. You need a new robe. That thing you're wearing is decrepit. Bright red or luscious lavender? Oh, and Monsieur Flavian at my salon has a line of gentlemen’s creams and lotions. You need to start moisturizing your furrows.” She gave him a soul kiss. Then stood up, went over to her side of the desk and sat down. “I need to get a new copy of the Kama Sutra. Mine is a bit, shall we say, page worn. Now, where’s the address for that bookseller?”

Jack pulled the cover back over his head and clutched his pillow. Sometimes an intelligent woman had just too much to say.


End file.
